


asphodel & belladonna

by glory_of_bygone_days



Series: amaranth [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: (at least not really), Child Neglect, FE Gen Week, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, lachesis is not a good mother, this is not a happy story, written for the flowers/dream prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 02:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20323795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glory_of_bygone_days/pseuds/glory_of_bygone_days
Summary: And even when Lachesis takes her hand to guide her in how to paint a vase with all sorts of ornaments, it feels way colder than anyone should feel like. She appreciates it, anyway, because like this she can pretend that things aredifferent.nanna tries to reach out only to find that there's nothing for her to grasp





	asphodel & belladonna

**Author's Note:**

> apparently this is the first work in its tag?? it feels pretty cool to be the first for once, but at the same time... these two deserve more content! especially content thats. happy
> 
> anyway, the week was lacking jugdral and things on the sad side, so ofc i had to change that.
> 
> this is closer to my Usual writing style than anything ive posted here before, so im a bit insecure. i hope its enjoyable(?) anyway though! it was partially written and edited while i was (am) sick so if you find and mistakes etc, PLEASE tell me!
> 
> a huge thanks to maxo for betareading <3
> 
> (also, obligatory warning for a fe treasure name)

Gathering and pressing flowers together is one of the few memories Nanna has with her mother. She never really understood why they did it. The only time she dared to ask, she never got a proper reply and no matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t able to brighten Lachesis’ sudden somber expression again. Even the clematis Nanna found, surely the most beautiful in the whole meadow, was spared little more than a glance.

So she never brought it up again and a few weeks later, her mother was gone.

It isn't until many years and a world later that Nanna sees her again. 

She wonders if during all the time she spent thinking of what to say, what to do when they reunite she was actually just chasing shadows. 

Because that's what Lachesis feels like, now, with sunken cheeks and gaze fixed all too firmly on everything except what lay in front of her.

So she just stands there. Stands next to her (so far away) and can’t bring herself to utter a single word.

Nanna only finds her courage much later. She hopes that her mother will be in a mellow mood, because the day is warm and sunny (because it’s her birthday, but she doesn’t remember that). 

Nanna asks about the pressed flowers.

“You’re not the one I wanted to tell about this, not like this… but if it makes you happy… yes, sure…”

She speaks absentmindedly, almost as if unaware she’s uttering any words at all, and Nanna wonders if she knows how much those words _hurt_.

But there are better days, too. Days where she teaches Nanna how to ask the flowers for a glimpse into the future. Days where she talks about her brother with admiration and just a little tint of sadness. Days where she talks about _her_, expression starstruck and _alive_ for once.

Nanna doesn't ask any questions, not anymore. She doesn't get closer than an arm's length, either, because she quickly learns that her mother is only ever _there_ in either body or mind.

And even when Lachesis takes her hand to guide her in how to paint a vase with all sorts of ornaments, it feels way colder than anyone should feel like. She appreciates it, anyway, because like this she can pretend that things are _different_.

That night, before going to bed, she carefully set a sheaf of apple blossoms into the vase.

Lakche once told her that she would often dream about how embracing her mother would feel like. Nanna didn't, not really, because she knows that her mother would only look at her with that blank stare she so often had and hugging her felt more akin to holding a doll than another human being.

Instead, she would dream of her mother _seeing_ her and smile so brightly it lit up the whole room.

When Nanna wakes up, all she sees are the wilted apple blossoms.


End file.
